I, Dragonborn
by Kerobani
Summary: At the moment of triumph, Ieago and Aela squander their victory in a screaming match. Ieago the Dragonborn turns his back on the Companions to persue his larger destiny. Rated M for all the usual reasons.
1. Wrong kind of Party

**Skyrim is the property of Bethesda Softworks. I'm not gonna lie guys, I was thrilled by the response to my pervious story, ****_I, Companion_****. This is a direct sequel to that work and I encourage any new reader to have a look at it to get a better idea of what will be going on in the next few chapters. As always, I welcome constructive criticism good or bad and will likely incorporate your feedback into the narrative to make the story better. So without further delay here is our hero-being an asshole to a stranger.**

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Lydia and I arrived in Solitude just in time for the beginning the Burning of King Olaf. It was Solitude's answer to Imperial City's Carnival and the two share several elements: First, the both last for three days. Second, they consist primarily of drinking and partying. Third, they have strong political undertones. The difference being that at Carnival, the Emperor's authority is reinforced; and the Burning is a warning against false kings. Last, they both begin with a beheading. From the talk in the gathered crowd, I learned that that the dead man was the one to allow Ulfric Stormcloak to begin his insurgency. I met with Delphine outside the Bard's College, the focal point of the weekend's festivities.

"You're going to a party," she told me

"Well no shit," I replied. A beer was already in my hand.

"No icebrain. A _formal_ party. The Thalmor are hosting a reception at their embassy and you have an invitation. Get yourself to Radiant Raiment and have some formal clothes cut for yourself. Your housecarl will have to stay behind. No bodyguards or weapons are permitted at the embassy. You're there to search for what they know of the dragons, not pick a fight.

"Uhh, the Thalmor still want me dead."

"Who's going to recognize you? How many people survived Helgen? Tullius, Ulfric, you, a few soldiers thanking any gods they can think of that they're still alive?"

She had me there, "I'm going to need more than ugly clothes if I'm going to be knocking over an embassy."

"I've already seen to that. Talk to a Bosmer named Malborn at the Winking Skeever. He's an old friend of mine. Give him anything you can't live without and he'll make sure it gets into the embassy."

"Can this Malborn be trusted?"

"He hates the Thalmor even more than I do. His family was killed in one of the 'cleansings' in Valenwood that nobody hears about."

I shuddered. The Thalmor's behavior in Cyrodiil and Skyrim was bad enough. The Knights of the Nine had heard about such Thalmor atrocities in Valenwood and elsewhere. The Thalmor and been serious about cracking down on dissenters right from the beginning and weren't picky about how much damage they did behind their borders.

"I'll talk to him in a few hours then. How much scrutiny will my invitation hold up to?"

"It's a genuine invitation. This party is a gathering of the most important people in Skyrim. It's not uncommon for a wealthy person new to the province to attend and make some desirable acquaintances."

"Do I have a back story they know about?"

"You're on your own there. Whatever you do don't make it too complicated. Look, time's wasting. Meet me at the stables outside of town when you're ready."

I walked away and into the Radiant Raiment: the finest clothier in all of Skyrim. Just ask the two Altmer sisters who owned the place. To be fair, the snobbish and offensive sisters gave me a great deal. Like their slaughterfish cousins they smelled blood in the water when I let it be known what party I was going to. Soon I was dressed for free in the highest Altmer taste: What I thought was an ugly green tunic and breeches combination with gold trimming and still more gold hanging from my neck and fingers. A fox fur was draped over my shoulder and fastened at the neck. To this cart wreck of an outfit I added an amulet of Akatosh, the god who was the patron of my order and universally acceptable. In payment, I was to be sure that anyone at the party I caught admiring my clothing was to be pointed to Radiant Raiment.

For myself I bought an actual toga, not the bed sheet I wore to avoid answering my door naked back at Breezehome. The first layer was a green linen tunic that cut off just above my knees and had long, wide sleeves. Wrapped around this and over my torso and left shoulder was almost ten feet of fine dark blue wool with a yellow hem. All this was held together by a burgundy woven belt. Even the sisters had to admit I looked far more dashing in this simple outfit.

But fashion is fashion and in the Radiant Raiment's most expensive offerings, I met Delphine at the Solitude Stables.

"Well you clean up nice," she said. "Are you ready to go?"

I nodded, "Malborn has everything I need. Lydia has everything I don't."

She looked concerned, "Lydia's not going to be following you is she?"

"Not at all, I told her to enjoy the festival."

"You should have a chance too when you get back," Delphine said as I climbed into the back to the carriage to take me to the party.

* * *

I'll be the first to admit, I'm not the best guy for the job Delphine handed to me. Perhaps it stems from a socially awkward childhood or being raised by a quiet and introverted family, but I find parties of this sort draining at best. More often, I rapidly develop a powerful anxiety. I felt like I wanted to hide when I entered the Thalmor embassy. Instead of following my instinct to tear a hole in the wall and escape I braced myself, remembering that I only had to keep the act up for a little while. I looked around the warm, well-lit hall. Most of the men wore outfits similar to mine, but mine was clearly of a higher quality.

"Welcome to the Thalmor Embassy to Skyrim," an Altmer woman greeted me. "I am Elenwen, Chief of Mission to this...ah, this kingdom."

I bowed to the ambassador, "I am Thane Ieago of Whiterun, madam ambassador. Tell me, what is the Thalmor's role here in Skyrim?" An old standby: get them talking about themselves. It works every time.

"We Thalmor are here in Skyrim to do two things: first to ensure the terms of the White-Gold concordant are being upheld throughout the Empire. Second, we communicate Alinor's wishes to the Jarls here and 'advise' them on matters of policy. But enough about myself. What brings you here?"

Aela's advice would work well here: tell them nothing they don't need to know. "Well ambassador, I am but recently come to Skyrim. In exchange for a few trifles, I have been made a Thane of Whiterun. One of the leading families there suggested I seek out some desirable acquaintances. So here I am."

Elenwen was about to begin picking apart my cover-she was not a fool-when the bar tender, who I saw was Malborn came to my rescue. "Madam Ambassador?" he said, "We are out of the Tamika Vintage 190. Do I have permission to open the case of Athena Red?"

"I told you not to bother me with such trifles," she snapped at the man. She contorted the evil sneer off her face and looked back to me with an embarrassed smile, "You must excuse me Thane. The duties of a hostess are never done."

Bowing again, I looked around. If I had not been lying, this would have been the place to make those 'desirable acquaintances.' The guest list was a who's-who of loyalist Skyrim. The wealthiest merchants of the East Empire Company were there. I recognized Jarl Ravencrone and Jarl Elisif beneath their circlets. The youngest of them, Elisif the Fair had her steward attached to her like a shadow. A large Nord in a flashy blue outfit was regaling a group with the politics of the court at Solitude and his low opinion of Jarl Elisif. Periodically he cast his eye over the young Bosmer woman serving drinks as she roamed the crowd.

Talking a snifter of Colovian Brandy, I approached the one other isolated guest, a tall Altmer in dark robes. We exchanged bows and he introduced himself. "You have the honor of addressing Ondolemar, chief of the Justiciary in Skyrim. Bask in it."

"I've never understood the Justiciars' presence here." I said.

"Simply put we enforce the ban on Talos worship, which some the more stubborn Nords refuse to give up. We enforce our enlightenment onto them and destroy those who refuse."

"And the Empire tolerates these extra-judicial arrests?"

"Naturally. The Concordant gives us every power of arrest. We didn't crush you in the Great War for nothing."

I bit back a reply that would have gotten me killed. "Can there ever be a real peace between the Empire and the Dominion?" I asked instead.

"My boy, there is peace now, and that peace will continue only as long as it suits our needs. But make no mistake, this is not a peace forged out of necessity between rival nations of equal strength. It is more like the calm between storms. And the next storm, I think, will be far deadlier than the last."

"Thank you for your insight Justiciar," I said, turning to the buffet line.

"Your Empire is rotting from the inside out. One swift kick will bring it down. No offense," he shot at my back.

While loading my plate I encountered an unexpected face. General Crassus Aslanius Tullius, the Emperor's _Imperator_ in Skyrim. His weather-worn face looked as trapped and frustrated as I felt. "General, it is good to see you in health after the calamity at Helgen." I whispered to him.

"Do I know you?" He asked.

"I'm not surprised you don't remember me. I'm that 'renegade' from Cyrodiil you almost executed."

He narrowed his eyes at me, "Yes, I remember you, the special arrest the Justicars were so concerned about. I'm surprised you made it out."

"I was helped by Hadvar. I was hoping you had news of him."

"He rejoined some time ago. I got his report. He speaks highly of you. I wonder how a man of your obvious character came to be wandering the border zone wilderness."

The formidable man saw my tension, "Don't worry. I'm not going to blow your cover. Just keep whatever criminal past you have in the past."

"How does the war go General?"

He paused for a moment. "I should not be saying this to a civilian, but the dice are cast and flying high. Ulfric is not a brilliant general, but he chooses his officers well. I'm fortunate that the people of Skyrim are so divided on the question of succession. If they were to unite behind Ulfric..." He scowled at the crowd in front of us. "And gatherings like these make we want to join him. All of us here to grovel at the feet of the Thalmor." We hid our faces behind our cups and glared out the corners of our eyes at Elenwen as two merchants brown-nosed her.

I swallowed my mouthful of wine. "I would have thought Jarl Elisif would have been heir-apparent in the wake of King Torygg's death," I remarked.

Tullius grumbled under his breath, "Perhaps in the counties back home she would become a countess, but this is a different kingdom with different rules. When the reigning king of Skyrim dies, the Jarls convene a _moot_ and elect a new king or queen from among themselves. Elisif's claim as the widow of Torygg is strong enough to get her elected, especially with the Emperor's support. But if Ulfric has a battalion of soldiers stationed in every city..."

"Then he can intimidate them into voting for him. Making his kingship legitimate and his goal of succession even more so," I finished. Another thought occurred to me, "But if it's a cohort or two in each Stormcloak battalion's place, won't the Jarls and the people of Skyrim see that as intimidation too? The rebellion would continue. With or without Ulfric."

The general nodded, "And there is the Empire's real gamble in Skyrim. No legionary unit bigger than a century is to enter a city without the invitation of the ruling Jarl. We break the military strength of the Stormcloaks and hope the Jarls remember their sense of gratitude."

"Sounds desperate."

"The Emperor _is_ desperate," Tullius almost snapped. "If Skyrim leaves the Empire, the Aldmeri Dominion will have Cyrodiil beneath the yoke for a thousand years."

We stood in grim silence for a minute, staring at our gobbets. "General Tullius!" a sweet voice broke our spell from behind me. I turned and bowed to the diminutive Elisif the Fair. She had slipped her steward's leash for a few minutes. "You're monopolizing the best-dressed man here!"

"The owners of the Radiant Raiment would be glad to have your business, Jarl Elisif," I replied, a smile growing on my face in spite of myself.

Our talk was cautious: Discussing my more public achievements in Whiterun; Tullius' campaign; who to avoid if I should ever visit the Blue Palace. Eventually, the young Jarl drifted away to schmooze with a merchant from the East Empire Company, leaving the General and I alone again.

Tullius pointed with his glass, "See Thane Erikur? That drunk in the blue outfit?" I nodded, "There's going to be a scene when that letch makes a pass on the serving girl and she cuts him off," Tullius told me. "If you need a distraction for something, that will be your best opportunity."

"It was a pleasure to meet you, sir," I said as I turned to grab a pastry. I moved to Malborn's bar to watch Erikur get shot down.

General Tullius was spot on in his forecast. The commotion erupting from the center of the room drew everyone's attention. Even Tullius pretended to take notice. "Now's our chance." I whispered to Malborn.

The two of us made our way back through the kitchens. I was identified as a guest feeling ill to the other staff. Malborn brought us to a pantry where he had stashed my armor, magicka saber, and backpack. He shut and locked the door to the embassy back rooms behind me.

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**A quick non-sequitur: I dusted off my copy of Oblivion recently to compare/contrast it with Skyrim (it has aged gracefully). But I was struck by how much subtext in that older game foreshadows the events leading up to Skyrim: Hang out long enough and NPCs will have several things to say about social and religious unrest in Alinor.**


	2. Don't Go Into the Basement

**Skyrim is the property of Bethesda Softworks. Just a quickie before the ordeal that is Christmas begins.**

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The hallways of the embassy were lightly guarded. Only one or two soldiers and a wizard patrolled the rear area of the building. Avoiding detection was simple as I flitted into side rooms and closets and made my way to the doors of the rear courtyard.

The noise of the party wafted through the halls, masking my footsteps. I was back in my element again and a smile crept across my face. Even without the Beast-Blood, it was the grin of a wolf. This was why the Knights of the Nine had taken me in. If we needed money or intelligence, It was people like me who broke into the Thalmor office to get it. If a sentry or two needed to be silenced before a raid, I was the one doing the wet work. A prisoner convoy needed to be hit, it was me shadowing it, guard after guard disappearing into the trees or falling with an arrow in his back. Those ever-popular Knights in Shining Armor relish in their feats of strength and arms in the light of day, boasting endlessly of their triumphs. I have been one of those brave and skilled warriors from time to time. But their crushing victories would be impossible without the rouge and her lock picks, the ranger and his bow, the assassin and her dagger, or the scout and his shadows.

It was while hiding in one of those spare rooms that temptation got the better of me. Say what you like about the Thalmor, but they do equip their people with nice stuff. I had found my way into a wardrobe to hide from a pair of soldiers. Now the justiciar robes might have been too bold a fashion statement, but their gloves and boots were another story entirely. They were made of hardened black leather with thin yellow accents and lined with fur for the chilly climate of Skyrim. They were stylish, durable, comfortable, and now in my backpack.

At last I exited the main building and made my way to Elenwen's solar. The two floors of Elenwen's quarters and office were completely unguarded. At first I had trouble believing my good luck. The desire to spit in the eyes of the Thalmor became overwhelming. Not only did I look for evidence of the Thalmor's involvement in recent events, I also cleaned the place out. The late third-era elven dagger and short sword pairing; jade jewelry (beyond priceless in Skyrim); a tome on telekinesis; and more. By the time I finished if there were two loose septims for Elenwen to rub together, I would have been surprised.

The best take came from Elenwen's desk. She had several dossiers on people and organizations throughout Skyrim. Evidently, Delphine was who she claimed to be. The Thalmor thought the Blades were behind the return of the dragons. A Blade lore-master had been tentatively located in Riften. More interesting, they had some power over Jarl Ulfric and were carefully supplying his rebellion to keep Skyrim unstable. Even the Companions had their own file, though my role as Harbinger was not yet known. To my lingering satisfaction we were described as, "Potentially a decisive element if they were to become active in the civil war." Every major faction had its own folder: The Dark Brotherhood, the Thieves' Guild, and the College of Winterhold. Thump, thump, thump, they all went into my pack.

My hearing, still keener than normal from my time as a werewolf, heard the faint sounds of interrogation in the basement. I crept in and paused on the landing to assess the situation.

A Breton man was chained to the wall of one of the handful of small cells in the basement. "Please," he wept, "I've told you everything I know."

A soldier wielding a knotted rope stood in front of him and a Justiciar sat at a desk facing away from me as I crept down the stairs. Elenwen's dagger was in my hand. "But still Etienne, let's hear it one more time," the Justiciar at the desk prompted.

"I don't know what more you expect to learn..."

"Just answer the Justiciar!" the soldier yelled at the man, lashing out with the knotted rope.

"He's an old man I see every now and again! I'm not even sure he's the one you're looking for. He comes up to buy supplies from us every now and then. He lives in the Ratway beneath Riften!" their captive screamed.

"What. Is. His. Name?" the interrogator demanded again. The soldier's rope whipped down again.

"Esbern! He's called Esbern." the captive gasped.

By that time, my hand was tightly over the Justiciar's mouth and his neck had a four-inch gash in it. I was impressed at how easy the cut had been. The curved, thin blade of the dagger had done all the work for me. The soldier saw me kill his officer and charged me with his mace in hand. He was skilled with it and our fight went back and forth for a few minutes before I could drop him.

I turned my attention the half-conscious man strapped to the basement wall. He was covered in bruises and suffering from sleep deprivation. I was about to unpin his shackles when I heard the clomping of boots above me.

"I know you're in here spy! We have your accomplice. Did you really think you could slip away without being noticed?" I looked up to see a soldier with her sword drawn and the point ready to enter Malborn's back. The soldier likely had a good notion of where I was, but the shadows and bars of the cage were to my advantage for the moment. The Thalmor soldier began forcing the much shorter Bosmer down the stairs I had used. I tested the balance of the dagger I had stolen. It felt molded to my hand and the edge almost supernaturally keen.

The soldier and her captive were framed in the light of the stairwell a moment later. The soldier was nearly a head taller than the man she led. I stepped up and threw with all my might. The nine-inch blade spun from the shadows so fast the sound of its travel was a continuous hum. The blade lodged deep in the soldier's eye, the momentum throwing her head back in a brief jet of blood.

Even before loosening Malborn's binds, I retrieved and wiped the blade clean. "Whatever you learned, I hope it was worth it," he growled at me. "The Thalmor will be hunting me for the rest of my life."

I didn't bother replying and instead went to rouse the torture victim. I cut him loose and he nearly dropped to the floor. Thanking me, he pointed out a trap door that he had seen his captors dump bodies into. He thought it might be a way out, I thought it might be a convenient hole for dead bodies. Looking around, I grabbed the Justiciar's interrogation notes. On a whim I grabbed the least bloody pieces of armor and an elven sword from the two dead soldiers. The months of toil had worn my set of leather thin.

Last, I discovered the unfortunate Brelas in the cell next to the one I had just liberated. Thane Erikur was a pompous, drunken, seditious waste of air. His lone saving grace was a real appreciation for beauty. The Bosmer waitress was stunning. In appearance she was like an Altmer without the sickly yellow complexion. Now she was in a state of shock and terror. Arrested for doing her job and terrified at the prospect of facing a person who had just killed three people in rapid succession within a few feet of her, she was reduced to mumbling expletives under her breath and shaking. Brelas was only partially aware that I had cut her loose and brought her to the trap door.

"Etienne, make sure Brelas keeps up," I said, picking the lock and dropping down.

As it turns out, I was wrong about the sub-basement of the embassy. It was a small cave leading out the forest well south of the Thalmor's compound. Once we got away from the large pile of dead people that had collected beneath the trap door, the four of us stood briefly at mouth of the cave.

"We never met. I was never here," I told them. Without another word, the four of us went our separate ways. I half ran, half slid down the mountain side back down to the road to Solitude. I was a fair distance away and only approached the gates of that exceptional city towards midnight.


	3. Mending

**Skyrim is the property of Bethesda Softworks. Just a quick shout out to dragonlorerd6 and Firestar3271, thanks for the favorites. I hope I continue to impress. And to the followers who've joined in recent days: thank you all for you consideration.**

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In our wisdom, the races of Nirn have created two words to describe being alone: its misery we call 'loneliness' and its glory we call 'solitude.' In the silvery light of the stars of northern Skyrim, I gazed upon Solitude. The bulk of that unique city rests on a massive natural arch that stretches eastward from the mountains and crosses over the bay hundreds of feet below. The grey walls and double gates are in pristine condition.

Two fortresses dominate the skyline of the city. At the easternmost tip of the arch is the Blue Palace. Once the throne of an Empire, it is now the seat of Haffangar Hold. There Ulfric Stormcloak used the Voice to crush High King Torygg in single combat, sparking the current civil war.

Torygg's widow, the twenty-year-old Elisif the Fair has tried valiantly to control her restive Thanes. I feel sometimes that only her steward and Tullius keep them in their place. She was unfortunately not suited to rulership. Often wearing her emotions on her sleeves and not thinking before speaking, Elisif will be lucky if she lives to see forty. She was just savvy enough to know that her head was on her shoulders by the grace of the Empire and that her steward's advice should be listened to. Perhaps as she matures she will learn to rule, but she had better learn fast.

On a plateau abutting a tall mountain, Castle Dour makes the corner of the city. Larger and taller than the Blue Palace, it serves as the Imperial residence when the Royal Family is present. More often, it houses the city chapel, local Thalmor office, and serves as the barracks for the Imperial Legion stationed here. From the keep, General Tullius manages the war.

I was permitted past the gate and went promptly to the room I had rented with Lydia at the Winking Skeever. Lydia was out carousing so the bed was mine for a change. I fell in and went into a deep sleep.

I woke refreshed fifteen hours later. As I ate my first good meal in 36 hours it came to me that I was covered in dried blood, had a backpack filled with a fortune in stolen goods, was in possession of some of the Thalmor's most precious secrets, and was now wanted dead in two provinces. My only thought was to laugh quietly and order more wine.

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Dressed in my robes and new boots, I spent the evening hanging out near the Bard's College and looking for Delphine. This is much closer to my idea of a good time: being outside, spread out, and in comfortable clothes. I still wasn't wild about the crowding, but there was plenty to distract me and plenty of opportunities to escape, rest, and watch the throngs go by. I got in touch with Lydia and even had a dance with her. It was nice to see each other in normal clothing, behaving like people and not the killers our adventures had required lately. When the song was over, I took my leave of her to scan the crowds again. I laughed when I noticed the small fan club of local men Lydia had developed following her around.

Late in the evening the Bard's college brought a large crowd together for the highlight of the second day's revelry. A twenty foot effigy of the legendary King Olaf One-Eye was standing in the College's courtyard looking over the Sea of Ghosts. Most legends hold King Olaf to be the one who subdued the dragon Numinex millennia ago. The dragon had served King Olaf until the day it died in captivity in Dragonsreach.

Only the Bard's College had preserved the truth. King Olaf had been a tyrant. He had come upon the already crippled Numinex and brought him to Dragonsreach to exploit the creature's power. King Olaf had then used the dragon's magic to spread his cruelty across Skyrim. Using deceit and treachery, he had sacked Solitude. He had dissenters buried alive. Only old age saved Skyrim from further cruelty at the hands of Olaf the Twice-Damned.

The crowd pressed thick around the effigy. The College's headmaster Virarmo proved that not all Altmer are Thalmor. His verses of King Olaf were compelling and masterfully orated. The legend of Olaf's malice stirred our hearts, his downfall gave us joy. The cheer was heartfelt when Virarmo set a torch to the effigy.

My body was warm with hot spiced wine and my heart with the good cheer of the crowd. I stared thoughtlessly into the flames. My eye followed a spark as it flew in an updraft. I followed it up to see it fade in the sky. It was then that I saw a slender figure on the balcony above. Her shadowed face was fixed out to the sea, but the green-gold glow of her eyes flickering with the fire gave her away.

I came up to the balcony nervously. I never thought I'd see Aela wearing a dress, let alone a corset. But there she was, dressed beautifully in a dark green gown and a fur-lined cloak. As I stepped closer I found she smelled faintly of a pine forest. I leaned on the railing next to her, looking down into the blaze below. "When did you arrive Aela?"

"Yesterday afternoon. Lydia told me you were off causing trouble for the Thalmor." She was a stunning, sharp-angled beauty by the fire light from below.

"You look great by the way." The silence between us lingered on. It's always tough talking to someone after a major fight.

"Lydia insisted on taking me shopping. I get the idea she's starved for the company of other women."

At that moment my ears picked up on Lydia's laughter. "By the sounds of it, she's enjoying men tonight."

"So the two of you have never..." Aela backed off, "No. That's none of my concern."

"It's alright. Lydia and I are very good friends, but we've never been lovers."

Below us Virarmo began one of my favorite laments. The bard at the Sleeping Giant clearly was not the best Skyrim had to offer. The Altmer's clear tenor voice below us would be echoing throughout the alleys and streets of the city when the song hit its crescendo. I felt a nervous flash of inspiration.

"Will you dance with me Aela?"

"I don't really know how..."

"Of course you do," I smiled. "Get into a fighting stance. Feel how you're on the balls of your feet? Good, keep that balance and bring your left foot up to the right. Nice, now put your hands up in front of your shoulders, just like mine. Now the hard part, press your hands on mine and let your weight fall on me." I let her linger there for just a few seconds, pushing back equally without telling her. Our balance was a flawless tension. I kept a reassuring smile in response to her nervous face. "Now here's how this relationship works: I am the man. I guide, I support..."

"Chauvinist," she replied, her smile faltering.

"Let me finish. You are the woman. Whatever you want to do, I have to support you. I cannot let you fall. Ultimately, you are the one that makes all the effort worth it. There would be nothing beautiful in this without you. That a better frame of mind?"

Her face was bright red, a genuine smile on her thin lips.

"Let's try some basics. If I step forward with my right foot..."

"...Then I must fall back with my left," Aela responded as we made a quarter turn.

"And if I lift your hands up?" I asked suiting my actions to my words.

She didn't reply, instead making a perfect twirl that ended with her closer to me than ever. I brought my left hand to the small of her back while she wrapped her right around my shoulder. For a few minutes at least, we were like hundreds of other couples that frigid night; framed in the light below while the stars looked on.

I finally nerved myself up to apologize. "Rejecting the Blood must have hurt you something awful Aela. To give me something so personal and I threw it away."

"I should have told you what it meant Ieago."

For another minute we moved in silence. All too soon the song fell to its end, as quiet as the beginning. She stepped closer and nuzzled her cheek against mine.

In spite of how badly we had hurt each other, I couldn't help myself. I craned my neck to reach her ear, "I love you too Aela," I whispered.

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**At last! I'm inching away from setting up the political backdrop that will support the next 3(4?) stories and back into the personal stuff that we all find more interesting! If you're curious, the "lament" I had in mind while writing the second half was "Outside" by Staind.**


	4. Something On His Mind

**Skyrim is the property of Bethesda Softworks. For those of you hoping for a bit of Aela having sex, sorry. It's coming, but it's a bit early in the story for it. I'd also like to single out Heart0fst33l for the review. Your few kind words have gone a long way in what has been a truly dismal holiday season. Thanks for the review and thank you all for taking the time to read my work.**

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I woke the next morning in the Winking Skeever feeling healthier than I had in years. The bed smelled of Aela, bringing memories of last night's sensations flowing into my mind. I have had only a few lovers in my day, but my favorites among them were playful and aggressive. Even as we came together, Aela had laughed and clawed and bit and teased.

She had gone long before I woke up but had left her marks all the same. As I rolled onto my back, it felt like she had done her best to write her name there. I also found my new short sword was missing. Bellowing downstairs for coffee, I sat on the bed and began reading that tome on telekinesis.

I was nearly done reading when I heard the sound of leather boots on the other side of my door. "Sweet dreams lover-boy?" Delphine teased as she strode into my room and took a mug of coffee without asking. An image of Aela's naked body lounging on my bed came to me unbidden. I felt the ghost of the excitement and wonder of that first glimpse of her body course through my veins again.

"That's funny, you don't sound like Aela," I replied without looking up. I thought instead on how Aela had wrapped her legs around me while I argued with the knots on the back of her corset. The end table I'd sat her on still had its contents scattered across the floor. I gestured at the Thalmor file on the dragons I had placed on the dresser to try out my new spell. The small journal followed my motion toward Delphine. She took it out of the air with a cautious glance at me. "Read," I said.

"So the Thalmor think the Blades are to blame for the dragons," she looked thoughtful for a moment. I my mind flashed back on how Aela's hips bucked when I curled three of my fingers inside her against my thumb. "I suppose everyone is guilty of blaming their enemies for every problem. But this puts us back to where we began. We still don't know how the dragons are returning." Delphine mused.

I sent another document her way. "The Thalmor seem to think this Esbern might be able to shed some light on the issue." I shivered at the memory of how Aela's sex had glistened black in the dim light of the moons when I parted her folds before I let my tongue explore.

Delphine's face lit up, "Esbern! By the gods he's still alive! I thought the Thalmor would have gotten that crazy old man years ago! Figures the Thalmor would be on his trail though if they wanted to know more about the dragons."

I peeled myself away from my daydreams, "Who is Esbern?"

"Esbern was one of our archivists before the Great War. He knows everything of the Akaviri dragon lore of the Blades. He was obsessive really. Nobody paid much attention back then. I guess he wasn't as crazy as we all thought."

"They seem to think he's hiding in Riften."

"Ieago if the Thalmor identify me, they'll crucify me! You must do this! If anyone can help us understand the dragons' return it's him."

I guess I'm a sucker for refugees. She wasn't being figurative about crucifixion. The Thalmor had lined the Gold Road between Skingrad and Anvil with upright timber.

"Alright, I'll depart once I get packed. I need to find a fence anyway and Riften is the place to do it."

"If he challenges you, ask him where he was on the 30th of Frostfall."

Lydia was disappointed to be taken away from the festival even a few hours early and the man she finally let seduce her even more so. I did my best to make it up to her by sidestepping off the main road to watch the fireworks launch from the Blue Palace. We split a bottle Colovian brandy I had swiped from the embassy.

* * *

I made some serious enemies last month.

We were nearly to Riften, having traversed the Hijallmarch, Whiterun, and Eastmarch holds, going cross country where doing so promised a more direct route. An early morning fog had risen up from the lowlands along the road we were following. In the distance I saw dark shapes bracketing the road. Closer in they resolved into two humanoids and an Aragonian wearing black armor and masks. They had dismounted from their black horses. My senses of hearing and smell remained sensitive after having my blood purged in Ysgramor's Tomb, but I had not caught a scent or sound of their arrival.

"If their plans are benign, I'm my own grandfather," I commented to Lydia while getting a hand on my saber and dismounting.

"I'm right behind you Ieago," she replied, flexing her shoulders in preparation for the work ahead.

One of the humanoids, a grey-skinned woman in back and red armor blocked our path as we came up. "Sithis calls for you," she said.

"My soul is not for the Void," I replied, dropping into a fighting stance and igniting my blade. Lydia drew her new elven blade in support.

The assassins came on us in a whirl of steel. Each carried two short swords. I fell back, grabbing a rock with my new spell; I cast it at the face of my nearest attacker. It smacked hard on his forehead and put him out of the fight. The Aragonian had been intercepted by Lydia and the two were now deeply committed to their own fight. The woman and I were locked in a dance of blades. The space in front of her was a whirl of darkened metal. At intervals I could not begin to predict, a point lashed out at me. Only a willingness to keep moving backward kept me from overbalancing and finding death on a waiting blade.

I sensed the rhythm of the fight beginning to favor the assassin. I needed to do something to break that rhythm.

"_Fus ro dha!_" I shouted. It was the first time I had tried the full Unrelenting Force on a person. The shockwave blasted my foe off the ground and sent her flying dozens of feet away. She bounced off of trees and rocks like a rag doll before coming to a rest.

I looked over the check on Lydia, seeing her excellent form. Her shield bashed into the lizard man's face. The follow-up was a spinning hack that separated his head from his shoulders. We went together to make sure the woman was dead and then walked over to the unconscious man.

"I like his boots," I commented.


	5. Pulling Fangs, Part 1

**Skyrim is the property of Bethesda Softworks. Thank you SpiritOfJazz for the glowing review! Anyone reading this who likes a more sophisticated take on romantic developments should check out her _A Tale of a Nightingale_ (I certainly do). Speaking of thievery, Ieago and Lydia are approaching Riften, a town known to bring out the best in everyone.**

* * *

The Dark Brotherhood: a family company. The famed cult of killers dedicated to Sithis. They were not necessarily evil, just devoted to death as we Companions were to fighting. They lived by a strict internal code of conduct. They applied violence in the name of profit. The only real difference between them and the Companions were our methods.

I was not going to torture our captive killer, but I had every intention of scaring the crap out of him. The man awoke in the fog-shrouded woods tied in a sitting position to a tree out of sight from the nearby road. Lydia and I had stripped him to his loincloth. I was going to keep the armor. The Dark Brotherhood's stuff is all perfectly enchanted for stealth work.

"I'm glad you're awake," I said into his ear. Lydia and I had been standing behind him out of his sight. I straitened and stepped into view. I had my wicked curved elven dagger in my hand.

"Sithis will take you. A contract has been made," the young man said. He might have been all of fifteen. About the same age I had donned the jupon of Kavatch's guards. I wondered idly if I had looked that young. I probably had.

I shrugged and sat on a convenient rock in front of him. "We all die eventually. As your friends found out today. You should be wondering when you'll be joining them," I replied. "But I have uses for you." I pointed the tip of the knife at his eyes to emphasize. His gaze closely followed the brightly polished blade.

"I can't cancel the contract on you," he said. "My family will keep coming for you."

"No you fool!" I said, lazily slapping his thigh with the flat of the razor-sharp, ten-inch dagger. "At best, you're a Slayer. I know you can't cancel a contract. You can't even negotiate one. BUT," the point of the blade flashed up to his face, bare inches from his left eyeball. "You can run a message for me. You've seen the kind of killing I'm capable of. You're going to run back to your Black Hand, and you're going to tell them I want a meeting with one or more of them." The blade was along his nose. His sweat stank of fear. "If more assassins are sent after me, I'll find your precious sanctuary and break my way in. I will slay each and every one of you before I burn the Night Mother's corpse."

A lot of the stuff I just told him isn't exactly public knowledge. Elenwen's spies in Skyrim had done their work well before I stole it.

"I'm going to weaken your bonds now. My friend and I will be long gone by the time you break loose. You'll find the Aragonian's robes and a horse for you by the road. The two your friends used are an apology to me. Remember: if you don't deliver my message, I will find you and leave you alive just long enough to know you failed your family."

I cut one of his lashes about half way though, mounted one of my new horses, and rode onward with Lydia.

"You really think you'll be able to talk them out of the death mark on your head?" Lydia asked me a half mile later.

"For all their fanaticism, the Dark Brotherhood is a fairly sophisticated organization," I said, sounding more confident than I felt. "They'll have an exit clause somewhere. I just hope it's not too odious."

* * *

Speaking of odious, Lydia and I reached Riften two days later. Not only was I looking for information on what exactly the Ratway consisted of, but also I needed to find a fence. All that stuff I had swiped from the embassy party needed to move.

Once again we headed to the Bee and Barb. I was hoping to find the man who wanted me to help him with a theft again. That con likely knew much about the so-called Ratway beneath the streets. The inn was crowded and we were obligated to share a table with an agreeable couple. They were a pair of adventurers that had found each other out in the wilds and had settled down together. They turned out to be a far more useful contact.

"I used to openly scorn the Thieves' Guild. Now they aren't even worth that much contempt," Mjoll the Lioness told us. She was cast from the same mold as Lydia, but was somewhat older with a nasty set of scars on the right side of her face. As the local vigilante she was the closest thing to an honest militia Riften had. "Now they're just a band of thugs, fighting over spare coins in the sewers. But they used to do some good here in Skyrim."

"How so? I asked.

"They didn't tolerate competition. Anywhere in Skyrim, if you pulled off a theft or ran a scam, they made sure you gave them a cut or never stole again. Violent crime was is down too. They didn't kill on the job and didn't like it when other people did either."

"It sounds like you almost respected them."

"I never thought I'd say it, but I did. They made Skyrim a safer place by regulating crime and graft. Now they can barely knock over a market stall in town without getting caught."

"What can you tell me about the Ratway?"

Mjoll's Imperial husband Aerin nearly choked on his ale. "We can tell you not to go there." he said. "The Ragged Flagon is the Thieves' Guild headquarters. That place is safe enough, but if you go beyond that your life is in your own hands."

"What makes it so dangerous?" I asked.

"Thieves' Guild wannabes mostly," Mjoll answered. "Applicants that couldn't meet Guild standards but are too stupid to move on."

Aerin nodded. "Also, the bottom-most sections are where the Jarl locks away the folks too crazy for the regular jail up at the palace. They get to roam free down there for the most part."

At that moment, two shadows were cast across our table. We looked up to see a dark-haired woman in her late sixties and a man in his forties next to her. They looked enough alike that I figured he was the woman's son. She looked like a predator: the sort of bully that uses its brain to manipulate and humiliate its targets. Her son reminded me somehow of an aggressive dog that wasn't actually good at fighting.

"I want your table," she said. Mjoll and Aerin looked tense.

"I'll be glad to make sure another group doesn't claim it when we're done." I replied.

"That's not how it works around here," her pet son snapped. "What Maven wants Maven gets."

"And who the fuck are you two?" I snapped back. The noise in the inn stopped like it had hit a brick wall.

"If I thought you could pose a challenge against my skill, I would cut you down," he boasted.

I leaned back on the side of my chair and looked over to Lydia, "May I borrow your sword Lydia?" She handed over the fine moonstone long sword. I looked up at my accoster. "Okay whelp, draw. Show me what you got."

He drew with a flourish. There was not a whisper in the room as I stood and we crossed swords. With a casual motion I used Lydia's sword to slap his blade out of his hands. I let the tip of Lydia's blade rise to his neck drove the idiot back against the wall.

"I don't care who you are; don't care who your mom is. My friends and I are having a few drinks at this table. When we're done, you may have your turn," I glanced at the fine steel blade I had swatted away, "And that's my sword now."

Two angry people walked away. Only as the inn's doors closed in conversation gradually came back to its normal level.

Aerin slapped the table and leaned forward. "Shor's bones! You just told the Black-Briar clan to fuck off! Nobody treats Maven that way."

Mjoll nodded in agreement. "We can expect her thugs to meet us as we leave."

"The town watch won't break up the fight?" Lydia asked.

Mjoll snorted, "The Black-Briars are the most well-connected family in Skyrim. She has contacts in the Dark Brotherhood, she helps pick the Thieves' Guild's targets, and Jarl Laila clutches to her skirts like a lost child. She gets what she wants. Or else."

"Is she going to try to have Ieago killed?"

"This first time will be a simple beating by some thugs led by her housecarl. After that she'll test to see if he learned his lesson. If not, then she'll have him killed."

Somehow after all the things I had experienced in the past year, I didn't feel too intimidated. We finished our drinks and stepped out.

* * *

**Team, I don't think Aerin gets enough credit. Things just don't add up to the strange, doughy townie/stalker personality we get to see in game. Nobody seems willing to explain exactly why he was near enough to a dwarven ruin miles away from Riften to rescue Mjoll. Nor how he was able to single-handedly relocate her to safety and treat her necessarily severe injuries. Oh it gets better: he takes her to his place. A well-appointed two-story townhouse in a fashionable section of Riften for which he pays with no apparent job. Aerin is a tough, capable adventurer with a past shadier than a redwood grove.**


	6. Close Call

**Skyrim is the property of Bethesda Softworks.**

* * *

Just as Aerin and Mjoll had predicted, a team of six thugs were waiting for us by the door of the inn. They were carrying clubs.

"Maven sent us to teach you some respect," their leader said.

"Do you really want to go through with this?" I asked. "You know Mjoll and Aerin already. I'm Harbinger of the Companions, _the_ _slayer of three dragons_; the one in the steel armor is my housecarl. Do you really think you're beyond us?"

"Maven pays us to fight," he replied.

I shrugged, understanding their position. "Fair enough. You have to do what you have to do."

It was a good night out. The four of us were stacked against six huge men willing to use every underhanded, illegal move they could invent. After the last sucker punch and crotch shot landed all six men sent by Maven staggered away or lay prostrate on the ground. Not one guard had moved to break up the fight. The four of us came away with cuts minor bruising.

We turned to our new friends. "We have some pressing business to attend to in the Ratway," I told them. "If we get back before sunrise, we'll knock on your door. Do me a favor and grab their weapons and gear. We'll need to pull Maven's fangs as soon as possible.

* * *

"What a nice couple," I commented as we descended toward the Ragged Flagon.

"It seems you Imperials have a taste for Nord women," Lydia mused.

I smiled. "Warmth in the winter, shade in the summer."

"And what do we Nord women get out of it?"

"Men without annoying accents."

The Ratway beneath Riften was a deep sewer network designed to prevent the city above from sinking into the nearby lake. A portion of it had become the kingdom of the Thieves' Guild. The rest was a concentration of misery rivaled only by the warrens of Markarth. The dark environment was ideal for an assassination.

The sound of steel scraping on leather saved me. A diminutive Kajiit had hidden herself behind one of the doors to the sewer and leapt at me. At the other end of the hall Lydia and I were in, two archers took aim. Lydia got between me and the cat-woman. To take care of the marksmen, I used the Unrelenting Force shout again.

The knuckle in the air my _thu'um_ created dragged the flames of the sewer's torches with it like fingers pointing at my enemies. The two men flew backwards and bounced off the wall. They were tough individuals however, and even as I ran to close with them they were up with swords ready. I dropped to my knees and slid on the slime toward one of the men. My uppercut slit him in half up to his sternum. The other man took advantage of my foolish move and started circling and lunging, never giving me time to get back up.

Seconds later, I was starting to be afraid. Lydia might as well have been back at Breezehome for all the help she could give me from sixty feet away. My attacker was working around to my side where he could finish me easily. I was now constantly stretching to the limits of my flexibility to get my saber or a ward in front of his blade. He pulled off a brilliant feint and suddenly my blade was nowhere useful. He smiled in his triumph as his sword came in for the kill.

My attacker's sword swerved suddenly and instead of the decapitating blow I expected, I took the hit to the side of my face instead. My battered leather helmet was not up to the task of completely turning the heavy blade. I let myself fall with the blow and that's all I could really do at that moment. My vision was covered in black and red blotches. The pain burned as the blade cut deep into bone. I heard women's voices faintly through the ringing in my left ear.

* * *

Minutes seemed to pass. Hands pulled me upright and set my back hard against a wall. Another hand squeezed my lacerated jaw without mercy, forcing my mouth open. A liquid that tasted faintly of vinegar gushed to the back of my throat. The same hand closed my jaw and another held my nose tightly. Disoriented and desperate to breathe, I swallowed the medicine mixed with my blood.

In seconds, my vision cleared and the pattern numbness and burning sensations on the left side of my face abated. My hearing and awareness came back like I was swimming to the surface of a deep pool. The first thing I saw was my last attacker lying on the ground with an arrow through the base of his skull. I looked up to see a long-haired figure leaning over me. Ever the bodyguard, Lydia was faced out for more attackers.

"Thanks shield-sister," I said to Aela.

We stepped outside to the city canal to clean my wound. The healing potion and my subsequent spell had stopped most of the bleeding and the pain, but the wound would be partially open for a few hours longer as the accelerated healing process did its work. The wound never healed properly. The scar on my face goes from just beneath my cheek bone to the base of my chin in a long clean line. It faded in time, but always shows up when I get sunburn. The left side of my jaw popped in and out of place for years after that fight.

"How did you find us?" I asked as the last of the blood rinsed away. It is shocking how profusely head wounds bleed.

Aela had sat down beside me, letting her boots dangle in the current of the canal. "I'd taken a job clearing a group of grave-robbers operating near Windhelm when I heard your Shout in the distance. After that tracking you and Lydia was easy."

"Well thanks for coming Aela. This is turning out to be a bit much for two," Lydia said as she came into the light. She showed us a letter. "I found this on the Kajiit."

Leaning the letter into the light of a nearby torch, I read aloud:

_I have good reason to believe the target will be coming to Riften in the next few days. Discretion is preferred, but elimination of the target is of the highest priority. The usual restrictions on exposure are lifted - you will be reassigned outside Skyrim if necessary, without penalty._

_Do not fail me._

_-E_

"You really know how to piss people off Ieago," Aela remarked

"One problem at a time Aela," I said. "I'll settle Elenwen when I can. In the meantime, Lydia and I were about to make her angrier. Want to come?

"If you want to hunt with me, your feet must be quick and your mind quicker." Aela said. What a woman.


	7. A Drunk in the Dark

**Skyrim is the property of Bethesda Softworks. Thank you all for reading and I hope to hear from you on this chapter in particular. There are several like this one where I worry that the characters are doing too much too soon. Ieago and his allies are supposed to be a group of badasses, but there's a limit to how much disbelief a reader is willing to suspend. I'd be glad to hear from you constructive feedback is always welcome.**

* * *

Our second attempt at entering the Ratway went more smoothly. Sticking to the main tunnel soon brought us to the Ragged Flagon, the front porch of the Thieves' Guild in Skyrim. Once part tavern and part shopping bizarre, this hidden market was now a darkened shell where a few figures drank themselves into oblivion.

The mountain-like bouncer blocked our path into the tavern section. He was about to make my life hard when a friendly voice called him off.

"It's okay Dirge, he and any with him are welcome here," Etienne said, walking up to greet me.

The sullen bouncer stepped aside.

The Breton I had sprung from Elenwen's embassy was evidently a member of the Thieves' Guild.

"It's good to see you on your feet, Etienne. How did Brelas and Malborn make out?" I asked.

"Malborn's holed up in Windhelm. As for Brelas," he smiled and glanced over his shoulder. She was serving drinks. "I set her up with a safer job. Dirge here makes sure folks are polite."

"Listen, Etienne, I'm looking for that guy Esbern. That recluse the elves were asking you about. Where would I find him down here?"

Etienne pointed to a door leading deeper into the sewers. "He'll be through there in the area called the Warrens. It's easy to find, just take any stairs you see leading down. You'd better hurry though. Some Thalmor went in just a few minutes ago."

"Thanks Etienne," I said as the three of us sprang for the door.

"Hey, when you get back, I've got something for you!"

* * *

Aela, Lydia, and I slipped quietly into the colossal sewer. We were on a landing looking down into a pit that bottomed out three stories below. The paths leading through the Ratway wound their way around the inside of this pit. Aela posted herself on an over watch by the door. The light from the Thalmor torches could be seen in the cracks and drains leading down. Lydia and I dropped down and crouched near the door we guessed they would come out of. I had put on the boots and gloves of the Dark Brotherhood. It amazed me how precise and quiet their gear's enchantments allowed me to be.

The door opened in a few minutes and the light of the Thalmor agents' torches stabbed deep into the darkness of the well. A wizard stepped out first, followed by two soldiers. Lydia and I leapt into action as Aela's arrow took the wizard in the chest. My saber lanced though the small of the elf soldier's back. The other had turned just in time to see Lydia's eyes appear like black pits. Her stab lifted the other soldier off his feet. She flung him off the edge of the path to free her blade.

We came the rest of the way to the bottom of the well without incident. There was only one door allowing us to press on and enter what I guess would be an isolated slice of Hell. The Ratway Warrens, where the mad are left alone. Heeding Aerin's warning we passed quickly and well away from the many iron-barred doors that kept the most dangerous of humanity confined and forgotten.

The last door was made of thick oak studded with iron. I pounded on the barrier and shouted for Esbern. The slot opened for a pair of eyes with large sunken bags underneath them. "Go away! There's no one here by that name," their owner slurred. A putrid waft of old grapes and vinegar found its way though the slot in the door.

"Where were you on the 30th of Frostfall?" I challenged.

"Talos save me! Delphine sent you! Give me a minute to unlock this door," he replied.

After he had opened no less than seven locks, the door opened with a clatter of empty bottles to reveal a withered old man in his seventies. Judging from the way he was swaying and clutching the door, he had not drawn a sober breath in days. "So Delphine still lives it seems. Well you better come in and tell me how you found me."

Aela and Lydia took up defensive positions outside the door. "We must be quick sir," I told him. "Delphine seems to think that you can shed some light on the return of the dragons."

"So Delphine keeps up the fight after all these years," Esbern sighed. Leaning back on his table, he grabbed another bottle and peered into it. Whatever he saw at the bottom caused a look of hopelessness to fix itself to his wrinkled face. He threw the bottle across the room where is shattered against a wine-stained portion of the wall. "I thought she would have realized it's hopeless by now," he muttered while wrestling with the cork covering a full bottle.

"What's hopeless sir?" I asked, "The Thalmor can be repelled, the dragons can be killed."

"Haven't you figured it out yet?" he snapped, almost falling back as the cork came free. "What more needs to happen before you wake up and realize what's going on? Alduin has returned just as the prophesy said. The dragon from the dawn of time, who devours the souls of the dead. No one can escape his hunger! Here or in the afterlife. Alduin will devour all things and the world will end. Nothing can stop him." He took a long pull from the green bottle before wiping his face with the back of his arm.

"Alduin is the dragon raising the others?" I asked.

Esbern nodded, working his way back onto his feet and stumbling forward to get into my face, "You see. _You know_. But you refuse to understand."

I suppressed the urge to gag from the stink coming out of his mouth, "You're talking about the literal end of the world?" I managed, not sure how long I could afford to humor this pathetic wreck on legs.

Esbern nodded. He gestured vaguely at his modest book collection behind a desk, strangely free of empty bottles. "Oh yes. It has already begun. Only a Dragonborn could stop him. But no Dragonborn has been known for centuries. It seems that the gods have grown tired of us. They left us to our fate as the play things of Alduin the World-Eater." His next pull downed half the bottle. He sloshed it around for a little to see how much was left.

"But I am Dragonborn," I said to the despondent man.

Lydia poked her head in at that moment. "Aela is signaling that we need to get going," she said.

It took a generous amount of prodding, but at last we got Esbern clothed and moving. I'm all for respecting our elders, but by Talos, some of us have things to do! His chattering and shiftless gathering of things for the trip cost us dearly. We had only just gotten out the door when another troop of Thalmor came into sight. It was a squad of six this time. The five soldiers faced all directions. Their swords and maces were ready in their hands. Their shields were held high. In the midst of their circle, a mage strode with hands ready and covered in magical flame.

I threw Esbern back into his room and breathed fire upon my enemies. Lydia opened her assault by running down the ramp into their tight formation, counting on the mass of her armor and her teammates to unsteady the Thalmor. I followed my own fire Shout directly off the landing above the floor and crashed into their burning midst as Lydia collided with the forward soldiers. My saber stabbed deep down into the wizard. The move steadied my landing enough to stay on my feet and drive the edge of my blade through the neck of the panicked rearguard, who was flailing his arms to extinguish the burning sewer filth covering his legs.

When all was still I walked cautiously into the dark passages where Aela hid. Around a corner I saw my lover's silhouette pulling her armor back onto her slender form. She looked over to me and the dim green light of Revenant reflected in her eyes. All around her were battered elves and torn pieces of moonstone armor and weapons. Her gaze locked on mine and for a heartbeat one green eye went black. Though I couldn't see her face, I could feel the satisfaction radiating off her.

Smelling foully of sweat, blood, and sewer, the four of us were only too happy to come through the door to the Sunken Flagon again. We rinsed off in the central cistern and sold our loot from the Thalmor. The fence I found gave me a staggering sum for Elenwen's jewelry.

Before I left, Etienne insisted on making the Guild's gratitude for his rescue known. He gave me set of black leather armor with polished steel fittings. The shoulder pads, cross belts, and pouches gave the military quality armor a rouge's flair. The matching hood came very low over my eyes. It took me a second to realize that it was like the outfits worn by many of the older Guild members I saw in the Ragged Flagon. This was high praise indeed. "The leadership of the Guild appreciates your favor," the Breton explained.

At last we made it out of that dreadful sewer. The sky was cerulean in anticipation of the coming sunrise. I asked my friends to wait for me at Aerin's house while I took care of some personal business.

* * *

**The events of this chapter went through several iterations. One draft had Aela doing the fight at the end while the other characters looked on in shock, but with a guy like Esbern watching that would cause more problems than solve. In another she was a sniper, but that didn't adequately show off how dangerous she can be. A more important challenge was how to tone down Esbern, who in-game was a beastly mage who could easily clear the whole sewer without you lifting a finger. That was a question mark until I was on a business trip with a coworker with a clingy and domineering personality.**


	8. Pulling Fangs, Part 2

**Is anyone else having an issue where an author's note will be cut off from the document after you save it? Anyway: Skyrim is the property of Bethesda Softworks. It's been almost two weeks since my last posting. Things have been on hold while I rewrite the next story (ever end up looking at something you've done and just not been happy with it?) and draft the followups. As always I'm thrilled to welcome every follower and offer my gratitude for every favorite, so clobber those buttons at the bottom of the page. Even better, post a review! I'm always willing to hear your thoughts on how I can make my work better. Readers have made a huge difference in the past. Thanks for reading and I'll post again soon.**

* * *

"Good morning Maven," I slurred from my chair before the foot of her bed. Some of the clots in my wound had burst with the motion of my mouth, allowing warm blood to begin trickling down my face again. I gave Maven my most fearsome scowl, even though any expression other than total neutrality caused the damaged muscles of my jaw to ache.

She woke with a start and with the unaccustomed weight of her thugs' weapons and armor over her blankets. It had taken Aela, Aerin, and I the rest of the night to silently break into her house and place the pieces of iron and leather gently on her bed. There had been a moment of panic before we realized she slept with her eyes open. The message I was sending her now was worth the effort and risk. A few pieces clattered to the floor when she sat up to look at the scowling, angry man with a bleeding face and filthy armor that had broken into her bedroom.

I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees, "I didn't appreciate you sending those thugs after me and my friends last night. I've got a lot of things on my plate right now, so I need to end this feud of ours quickly," I held up a curved finger to point at her for emphasis, my voice dropping by degrees to the rough growl that only comes out when I'm furious, "Now you. Listen. Good: Don't _fuck with me_. I will leave you poorer than the crazies in the Ratway if you cross me again," I let the threat sink in for a moment before continuing, "You will find a way in coming weeks to apologize to me publically and gracefully. And remember: Try anything against me and mine again, and I will _ruin_ you."

I walked out of her house by the front door and went to sleep off the morning at Aerin's place.

* * *

Lydia, Esbern, Aela, and I spent the rest of the day preparing for our march to Riverwood to meet Delphine. We had decided on using a less popular, but more direct route that would keep us in the southern most portions of the Rift and so cross the Jearl Mountains south of High Hrothgar before coming to Riverwood. My original leather armor was so worn and rotten it wasn't worth selling. I tossed it and tried on the Thieves' Guild uniform instead. The padded armor and hood reeked of enchanting. The Guild's hood came low over my eyes and its cloth material matched the cuirass and greaves of the armor perfectly. The black and red gauntlets and boots of the Dark Brotherhood completed the comfortable and practical outlay. To keep up tradition, I had a local smith carve a red diamond into the right shoulder pad. Standing in front of the mirror in Aerin's house, I beheld an intimidating figure that became handsome with the removal of the hood.

Later in the afternoon, I was able to detach from my group and go to the local church. I've stated earlier that I am not comfortable with organized religion. This lack of comfort arises more from my personality rather than any lack of faith or animosity towards the cults of the Divines. While I do not participate, I do respect the churches. I know that in any of the temples to the Divines, I will be made welcome.

Such was the case at the Temple of Mara in Riften. The day's services had let out and the acolytes had time to speak with a smitten young man. I sat on one of the pews with Maramal, one of those worthy acolytes.

"Tell me young man," he said, "What brings you to the Temple of Mara?"

"Well sir, I'm only recently come to Skyrim. But early on in my time here, I encountered a Nord woman."

The Redguard priest smiled, "You are not the first Imperial man to lose his heart to a fierce shield-maiden of the North. The issue seems simple enough: Mara has shown you one to love. Go to her."

"And that is the issue sir. Back home I barely understood the courtship rules. I knew just enough to not be totally unsuccessful. But here I'm completely out of my depth. For all I know it was just a one-time event." I'd had too many women use me that way.

The middle-aged Redguard nodded his understanding. "You'll find things are much simpler here in Skyrim," Maramal replied, "Life here is hard and often cut short. There is no time for a long, careful courtship. If you have found someone you are interested in, you simply wear an amulet of Mara and approach her and ask if she feels the same way. To improve your chances, remember that Nords are a people who respond to deeds. If you have done something she respects or finds admirable, she will be very inclined to say yes."

I dug out my coin-purse. "How much for an amulet?" I asked.

"200 Septims and I'll even throw in some advice for free," Maramal replied.

"What is that advice?" I asked as I counted the necessary coins.

"Mara has spoken to me about you at length. She knows how badly you have been hurt by the two you loved most. She knows your disappointments with a dozen others. She knows that you have been avoiding love for a long time now. She knows that you are terrified of being disappointed again," Maramal said to me.

I looked down at my knees and knew the truth in his words. It had always seemed that those two had laid a curse on my love life that I could not break. The priest continued, "Lady Mara has bidden me tell you to let go of your terror. She has a love set aside for you, but it will not come to fruition unless you act against your fears."

I looked at the simple necklace in my hand, "I have every intention of asking for this woman's hand," I said, "But I want to do so when the time is ripe. When I feel ready for it. Able to offer her something more than the life of a wandering soldier."

Maramal frowned at me, "You have been feeding yourself that same self-pity since Diana broke your heart seven years ago, and there was a gap of another five between Lykiska and her. All that time caused by the same terror."

Shocked by how much the man knew about my past and having no excuses, I clutched the amulet and departed for the local jeweler in silence.

* * *

I had originally thought to have our group take turns riding the horses the Dark Brotherhood had left us, but Lydia's common sense prevailed. Our horses were instead loaded down with the supplies we would need to get to Riverwood.

The southern portion of the Rift is a beautiful wooded country overlooked by the Jerall Mountains that separate Skyrim from Cyrodiil. The roads are in regular repair to handle the caravans that carry goods between the two provinces. Naturally, violence is common as the Stromcloaks seek to disrupt Imperial commerce and the Legion seeks to counter them.

The three of us listened politely to Esbern's continual flow of chatter. He was a social creature for whom booze had never been an adequate friend. The years of hiding in the Ratway had been a trial on his sanity. As we marched along, we got to hear what seemed to be every exploit of the Blades from their arrival on Tamriel forward. At last as the sun set on the third day out from Riften, the torrent of his voice slowed to a trickle that allowed the rest of us to participate and get his views on recent events.

Esbern insisted that we camp at Autumnwatch Tower, a small redoubt a few miles south of the road. Being so hidden, we thought to all be rested for tomorrow's approach to Arcwind Pass. The old scholar almost dragged me by the wrist to the top of the intact tower. There was a word wall cut into the face of the mountain just above the tower's parapet. The smell of damp wood burning wafted up from where Aela and Lydia had a fire going for the evening.

"I've wondered about this wall since the first days of my exile," Esbern explained to me. "The ancient Nords left so little behind over the years. I was wondering if you could read it since you're dragonborn."

"It doesn't all come at once," I explained. "The old Nords were a grim people from what I've read on the handful of these walls I've found. I pointed to each of the words that appeared to glow at me from the wall. The words that stand out here are _krii_, _lun_, and _aus_. Kill, leech, and suffer."

The whole wall's meaning came apparent after a moment's concentration. "_One may kill with more than steel:_ _Here fell Ulf the Quarrelsome to the witchcraft of the Deep-folk. Long did he suffer when the leech failed to cure him,_" I translated the grim testament.

Esbern nodded soberly, "The chroniclers among the Akaviri were shocked by the brutality of the wars between the Nords and their Elf neighbors," he remarked.

Our curiosity satisfied, we descended to the fire where Aela and Lydia had skinned a few hares for the evening meal.

* * *

I woke with a headache and blurred vision in a small shack. As my head cleared, I saw a female form lounging on a shelf. She was wearing a familiar black and red armor.

"Sleep well?" she asked in a sultry feminine voice. What little of her face I could see was alive with sky blue eyes and burn scars.

"Where am I?" I croaked. The room swam. Whatever drug she had used to subdue me made my body feel like I had been stuffed with sand and alcohol.

"You're safe for the moment," she replied, "The effects of the laudanum will wear off soon. I didn't give you that much. In the meantime, we have business to conduct.

"Do tell Speaker," in hindsight, it was not wise to be sarcastic to a Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood, but the drug had yet to leave my system.

"You terrified the poor boy sent to kill you," She purred, "Especially in light of recent events. You got the Listener's attention though, and the Brotherhood is willing to waive your contract... For a price. Look behind you."

Obeying, I beheld three people on their knees. Each was bound with their hands behind their backs and a sack over their heads.

"You see, we can't just let you go. There is a legitimate contract on your life. It would be bad for our reputation if it became known that we dropped contracts just because someone asked."

My head finally cleared and my stomach sank as I figured out where this was going.

"One contract in exchange for another," she whispered in my ear, so close I could feel her hot breath, "One of these people has a contract on their lives. Find out which one and kill."

Talk about awkward moments. I looked over my three options. One was a man in nondescript scale armor and visibly weeping with fright. Next to him was an old woman who held her head up to us even though the sack was tight over her face. The third was a Khajiit who held himself in a relaxed posture.

I walked up to the armored man. He shrank back at the sound of my approach.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"I... I'm nobody," he stammered, "I'm just a mercenary."

"Any specific reason someone would want you dead?" I asked.

"I don't know! I'm a mercenary, I kill. It's what I do. Maybe there were times... times I got carried away? But war is war right?"

I shifted over to the old woman. "You should be ashamed," she snapped at the sound of my approach.

"And who are you?" I asked.

"None of your damn business. And before you ask, no, I don't know who would want me dead. I'm too busy at the orphanage keeping those unwanted brats in line to make enemies."

"Coward," she spat as I stepped over to the Khajiit.

"And what's your story?" I asked.

"I am Vasha," he said, "An obtainer of goods, taker of lives, and defiler of daughters.

"You seem pretty calm about this."

"My friend, if I go a month without being bagged and dragged, I start to wonder if I'm losing my edge."

"Any particular reason someone would want you dead?"

"Fool! Don't you get it?" he sneered, "I live in the shadow of death every day. A knife in every doorway, a knocked arrow on every rooftop! If one of my enemies wouldn't pay to have me killed, I'd take it as a personal insult. Tell you what: let me go and I won't have my people hunt you down and carve my name on your corpse."

I drew my dagger from its sheath and stepped behind my victim. I pushed the head forward as far as reflexive resistance would allow. The blade went smoothly up through the base of their skull. A few spasms and a twist later, it was over.

A quiet clapping from the Speaker's hands filled the otherwise silent shack.

"Interesting choice. The frail old woman who was spending her remaining years looking after orphaned children," she said.

"Well? Did she have a contract on her or not?" I asked.

The masked woman shrugged slowly. "That's really immaterial. What is important is that you killed on command without mercy or regret. Sithis is pleased today. Consider yourself among the living again, congratulations. And welcome to the Family. Now if you'll excuse me," she said as she drew an elegant black dagger, "I have a coward who abandoned his friends to die and a rapist to finish."

I shut the door behind me as Vasha began screaming.

I discovered the road not far from the abandoned shack the Brotherhood had taken me to and by the drag marks; I easily made my way back to our camp. The three of them were sitting down to breakfast as I came up.

"Where've you been?" Lydia asked.

"Did any of you notice signs of other people nearby last night? Tracks? Noises?" I asked.

The three of them shook their heads.

"Spooky," I commented, rubbing the diamond on my shoulder like a worry-stone, "But anyway, good news: the Dark Brotherhood is no longer after me."

"Do we want to know the price of this freedom?" Esbern asked.

I shook my head, "It was nobody who didn't have it coming to them."

* * *

**Am I the only one who thought it was crap you couldn't force Astrid to live with the agony of her betrayal? I remember being at the end of that questline, casting Healing Hands and saying, "No. No easy out for you." And if any of you are feeling a bit confused by the Maramal scene, don't think on it too much. Instead recall that this story is a glimpse into the life of a guy almost 30 years old. At this stage Ieago's personality is as much a product of his past insecurities as it is of his professional and personal triumphs.**


End file.
